


The Anklet

by Epoxide (MiyuTanemura)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Inspired by a prompt, M/M, Making stuff up in regards to Dwarves and Hobbits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyuTanemura/pseuds/Epoxide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwarves go through a trance-like stage when they're creating the courting gifts to their Ones.<br/>The gift Thorin made was odd. So he got rid of it.<br/>He never expected it to be picked up by another person. It was an immense shock when he saw who was wearing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anklet

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story was inspired by the sixth prompt in [this list of prompts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1242676) by Pirateking.  
> Here's the prompt:
> 
> #6 Dwarfs get a calling to form a gift for their one. When Thorin creates his, he doesn't know where its worn. to thick for a wrist to small for a crown and most differently not a ring. He assumes that its a necklace for a very dainty neck. Ashamed of his creation and unwilling to show it to his family and court, Thorin instructs his spy master Dwalin to get rid of it and never tell anyone about it or tell him where he hid it. After all Dwarfs are judged by their calling gifts, what would the kingdom say if they found out their crown prince made a strange item...something that most differently could not be for a dwarf. Fast forward to the Shire, where Bilbo finds something shiny in the banks of Brandybuck river. Hobbits wear anklets. what will Thorin do when during the quest he sees Bilbo slip on an anklet right before speaking to Lord Elrond. DRAMA Bilbo/thorin
> 
> I was struggling a bit with my other stories (but no worries, I'm working on them when time and inspiration allow) and last night this prompt would not leave me along. And so this is the result.  
> I hope you like it.
> 
> Now, slight warnings: I might have a bit of a geography!fail because when I was thinking of the rivers (because it was necessary) I didn't have the whole geography of ME in mind, though I did go and check the Shire's, so things might not be overly correct but instead of choosing the Baranduin river I went with The Water because it was a bit closer, so to speak. So, hm, apologies. And my probable complete disregard for actual Dwarven or Hobbit traditions probably also warrant that I ask for your pardon.  
> I also want to note that at the time Bilbo finds the anklet it's the spring after he had his 33th birthday.  
> Oh yeah, there is also a bit of a mix between book and movie elements.  
> That said, I'm a bit nervous about this one (am still getting my footing around the characters). And this ultra-mega-long note wasn't on purpose. ^^'  
> This story is unbetaed and I don't own anything.

Among all the free races of Middle Earth it was common to look for your other half, your soulmate. In such a way that, between races things would differ, in effect and time.

Dwarves had their Ones, whom they felt in dreams and to whom there was a protocol to be followed once the first signs of the calling started to emerge.

This vision, this calling, compelled them to produce, to create something that would be given to their One, something meaningful, expressed through their craft and that was to be either useful or worn – in some cases both.

The results could be unexpected but often they showed an inkling to their One.

A dwarf would fall under a spell of sorts, what they called _Mahal’s inspiration_ , and _create_.

The spell ensued that the dwarf would be in contact with the core of their One and be able to produce their courting gift.

No-one knew when Mahal’s inspiration would hit, there was speculation that it was when both parties were mature enough to begin courting. But then, how to explain those couples that knew their Ones long before that? No, there had to be another reason. Maybe it was, some hazarded, to show their worth to the other party, to show how they inspired them, all in a bid for worthiness…

That trance was what compelled Thorin to go to the small forge on the town he and his family and a few of their close friends – and as such, of somewhat high hierarchy – were inhabiting.

Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, exiled king of Erebor, had just gotten a strange urge ever since he had awoken.

He felt a tingling in his hands, an odd buzzing in his head that muffled everything around him and could feel that he was lightheaded.

As soon as he had gotten up and made himself presentable, his feet took the lead and took him to his intended place. He wasn’t even aware of Dís getting up from her chair at the small wooden table and ask if he wanted breakfast, followed by an enquiry as to where he planned to go. Of course that, after a beat, she noticed the slightly glazed eyes and understood what was happening.

But all of this went unnoticed by the dwarf.

His boots stomped on the slight frost that still clung to the grass. He crushed it, in his hurry to get to the forge. The pull made his strides faster.

Finally inside, Thorin lit up the fire and gathered the material and utensils that he would need. And then he let himself be taken over by the trance.

He worked without pause, where neither heat, hunger nor sleep could reach him.

It was such an all-encompassing enterprise that the end came as a surprise.

As soon as the gift was finished, it was as if a bubble had burst. Thorin’s mind cleared and he gasped while he took some steps back, breathing heavily. He felt exhausted, legs failing him and, soon enough, Thorin was sitting, back against the far wall as he tried to rest a little and regain his breath.

After a good while, the forge was cooling down quite a lot and the cold sweat on Thorin’s skin was making him shiver. After a while he got dressed, his coat back in place. That was when the dwarf approached the result of his hard work for he hadn’t seen yet what he had created.

Thorin stared and stared at what he had done. He was… confused.

This metallic structure. What was it?

It was too thick and large to be worn in a wrist, too small to be a crown – and with some elements that just _didn’t belong_ in a crown – and definitely, most definitely, it was _not_ a ring.

Then, what might be left?

A necklace. Yes, it could be a necklace but only if the wearer had a dainty neck. A very dainty one.

It had to… it must be it, then.

But it wouldn’t do.

How could _he_ , a king in exile but still a king, have created such a thing?

It was shameful.

There was no way he would dare to show his creating to his family or the scattered remains of his council.

He could not bring such shame to the line of Durin.

He would _not_.

So, something had to be done.

He found a simple wooden box, one that didn’t even have a latch to be closed, and placed the result of his work inside. And then went to find Dwalin. His friend would be able to do something.

After a while there was a knock on the door of the forge. It was his Captain of the Guard and old friend.

“Thorin, you called for me?”

“Yes, my friend. I need to ask something of you.” Thorin approached the other dwarf and produced the box from a pocket of his coat. “I want you to get rid of this box and its content. Don’t look inside, don’t ever tell anyone about it and _don’t_ tell me where you hid it. Can you do that, my friend?”

The bald warrior frowned fiercely before grabbing the box and pulling it from his king’s grasp. He placed it in a pocket of his coat and nodded, handing to grasp Thorin’s forearm.

“It will be done.” And then he turned around and left the forge.

Thorin let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

What was he supposed to do now?

Every dwarf that went through Mahal’s inspiration would have his gift being appraised by the other dwarves. What would they say if they found out that he had created such a strange item, shape and elements not being dwarf-like in the least.

That could only mean that it was not to be gifted to a dwarf. What if it was to one of those accursed tree-shaggers? Thorin could only pray to Mahal that he had mercy on him.

And now… now he would have to go back to the house and face his family.

What he was going to say, he knew not.

 

* * *

 

The weather of this spring day was so exquisite that Bilbo couldn’t help himself. He grabbed a basket, filled it with food, said a quick goodbye to his parents and left Bag End. He paused along the way to wave at Hamfast who was working on his garden. And then, off he went, walking along the winding paths, looking at the green rolling hills and flowers that seemed to be sprouting everywhere, as he strolled leisurely.

The air was crisp and a perfect counterpoint to the warmth brought by the sun. A gentle breeze brought the scent of grass, flowers and food – the next meal, elevensies, was fast approaching – to him.

But Bilbo felt like walking some more, which he did.

By lunch time he had reached a good place by The Water so he sat and ate with gusto, the sound of the river a different background to what he was used to during his meals. It was pleasant.

After his meal Bilbo decided to walk a little, while being mindful of the water.

At one point something shiny caught his eye. Curious, Bilbo approached the shore. There was something there, half-hidden by the sand.

Taking a cautious step, Bilbo entered the water. The current wasn’t overly strong but it was better to remain cautious. His feet sank slightly in the giving sand, the hobbit trudged slowly towards the shiny object.

He caught it and inspected it.

It was made of metal. The shape was reminding Bilbo of something but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was yet…

But first, he better go back to the dry safeness of the shore.

Sitting down on the grassy field, the hobbit took his time to admire the thing he was holding. It was pretty, of that there was no doubt. The vine-like way how the segments extended themselves, the tiniest forms of what looked like leaves, the delicate latched that allowed the whole item to close.

That was when he realized what it was he was holding. An anklet.

It was customary of hobbits to wear anklets in some special occasions.

Bilbo laughed. It was a strange gift that the waters had brought him but he accepted it.

Grabbing his basket once again, Bilbo set to return home.

He wanted to show it to his parents.

 

* * *

 

Rivendell was as magical as it was beautiful. Not that Bilbo was allowed much time to admire the hidden valley. Not when he was accompanying thirteen dwarves that showed no appreciation towards elves and a wizard that had more tricks up his sleeves than he cared to show.

How did he end up in this crazy mission, again? He didn’t even have a handkerchief, by the Valar!

The run from the orcs and wargs had left the Company out of breath and by seeing the elvish settlement the older dwarves started to grumble.

Thorin and Gandalf had a word exchange that wasn’t all that friendly before the wizard finally convinced them that it was better to keep going and that there was a reason for them to be there. They needed help – and it would come in the form of an elf, whether they liked it or not.

When the whole Company finally set foot in the small courtyard that stood before the set of stairs that led to the house, suspicion and tension seemed to be present in every dwarf. Then an elf appeared and exchanged some words with Gandalf until the moment a horn sounded and the noise of horses approaching – fast – sounded and the dwarves formed a closed circle – Bilbo was surprised to find himself ushered to the middle, the safest place, with the younger dwarves.

And then things happened really fast. They were offered dinner and rooms to rest on.

After dinner – which had been as mortifying as Bilbo had predicted – Gandalf called Bilbo and asked him if he wanted to accompany the wizard to a private conversation with Lord Elrond.

He was given a little time to freshen up and, just as he was leaving the room, the sudden thought that it might be better to wear the anklet he had found so many springs ago hit him. He hadn’t parted with it because it felt special in a way he couldn’t explain…

Yes, he would wear the anklet because he wanted to look his best, after all.

Placing it on his right ankle, Bilbo fastened it and hurried to meet with Gandalf.

When they got to the large room Lord Elrond, Balin and Thorin were already there.

At that point something strange happened.

Thorin’s eyes seemed to widen a fraction and his mouth opened for a moment where it seemed as if the dwarf was going to say something. Bilbo hoped he wouldn’t as he was fed up with the way the other treated him and it wouldn’t do to present such a distasteful spectacle to the elvish lord.

 

* * *

 

Thorin could _not_ believe it!

The gift he had created all those years ago…

It was there! On the hobbit’s ankle.

It couldn’t.

Right?

No. that could not be right. It made it seem like that _halfling_ was his One!

It was impossible that a halfling who had never gone through any hardships would be the One to an heir of the line of Durin, one of the strongest dwarf lines.

It had to be a misunderstanding.

Mahal would not allow for such a thing to happen. It had to be a prank of sorts.

And then Gandalf was speaking to him and telling him to give the map to the tree-shagger.

Thorin had to compose himself, push the matter that had left him flabbergasted to the back of his mind and focus on the problem that took precedence – they had to know what was written in the map and there was no other way for that than to give it to the elvish filth.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored Balin and gave out the map.

They did get their information – and a countdown, to make it even better – but Thorin couldn’t help giving curt, nearly harsh, replies. He had to get away to try to make sense of way too many things.

When they were finally released and returned to their assigned wing, Thorin hurried into his room, ignoring all the other who had been waiting and were now asking for the news.

When the door closed, Thorin let himself lean against it. He ran a hand through his hair and walked to the window. He rested his forehead against the glass and took some deep breaths.

_By Mahal’s beard – how did that happen?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I hope you liked this story. It will have at least another chapter (I still don't know how the Muse will want to go) to the drama part. Let's hope I can write it well. Haha.  
> Feedback is always highly appreciated. :)


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